Wishful Thinking
by ti3
Summary: Lucius finds himself having a breakdown shortly after his son is born. He blames everything on Bellatrix and regrets most of his past decission. Voldemort intervenes. Rated M for Lucitrix.
1. Her Fault, His Problem

_just a few notices. lizzy spawned my creativity for this. it was written whilst i wrote dropped, actually started the afternoon before i started dropped._

_it's set in january of 1980, shortly after draco is born. voldemort's fall is shortly coming and he's already heard the prophecy. narcissa and lucius are married, as are bellatrix and rodolphus._

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He tried to keep his mind off of it. He tried to keep his mind off of her. He tried so damned hard but always failed. And today was one of those failing days. 

He had woken long before Narcissa had. The thing was crying again. That was what had woken him. It always cried. Constantly. And he could never make it stop. He didn't know how to deal with children. So it was with cold feet that Lucius found himself leaving his rather comfortable bed in the wee hours of the morning and walking grudgingly down to the room it lived in. Narcissa had wanted to keep the thing in the bedroom with them, but Lucius had put his foot down on that. That thing was not going to cry and wake him up at every odd hour of the night and how were they to have any fun if it was in the room?

Not that they did any longer. Lucius had not touched Narcissa in well over a year, but by saying the above to her he had alluded that one day soon they might, again, but Lucius knew he wouldn't.

Not after the thing had come along. He'd hate to get under Narcissa's nightgown and find stretch marks. His trophy wife was ruined. She no longer spent her hours doting on him like she should, but instead all her time was consumed by the thing. The thing ran the house now, not Lucius. He found himself hiding away at work longer than needed, just so he wouldn't have to come home and find Narcissa with the baby and her sister sitting in his parlor.

The bitch was nothing but trouble and ever since he had married the blonde, Bellatrix had insisted on checking up on her sister at least once a week. Lucius hated Bellatrix. She brought out a side in his wife that he had worked so hard to hide. She was no longer the happy shopping-crazed Black he had married. Now she was a tamable, well-respected Malfoy, except when Lestrange came round. She always managed to uproot the old Narcissa and throw Lucius' creation into the trash.

Slowly, he opened the door to the nursery and looked around. There it was—laying in the middle of the crib on it's back, crying its eyes out. Lucius sneered down at it before his face melted into a look of confusion as he realised he didn't know what to do. Waking Narcissa was simply out of the question. She'd only push him aside to dote over the thing and talk in that humiliatingly thing-like voice, high pitched and squeaky. Lucius hated when she did that.

He approached the crib rather slowly, leaving the door open behind him. Wrapping his hands around the top of the crib he looked down at the thing. It looked like a perfect Malfoy—blonde and pristine, but it was crying, which was one thing a Malfoy never did. Lucius could remember crying twice in his life and both times the bitch had been present. _She_ had been the cause of his pain, his humiliation. Shaking these embarrassing thoughts from his head, he bent down in painfully slow movements, intending to pick the thing up. But when his hands were an arm length away, he hesitated. He didn't know how to hold it. Biting his lip, he backed off into the wall of the nursery. A window was to his right, bathing the room in moonlight. He observed it through narrowed eyes, trying to remember how it was that Narcissa handled the thing. But with thinking this, he only grew angry. Narcissa paid it so much attention and paid him so little.

Wiping angrily at his face, Lucius sucked in air rather rigidly.

Narcissa did not care for him.

And he didn't even know how to stop his son from crying.

He slid to the floor and buried his head in his hands, trying to hide the tears that came from someone who wasn't watching. It wasn't just the current situation and lack thereof with his wife, it was years of pain, built up, finally spewing out. The thing's cries rang in his ears, only urging his tears on. "Make it stop. _MAKE IT STOP_!"

Lucius Malfoy was finally alone in the world. He'd lost everything he had ever been foolish enough to let himself care for. Everything. His wife and child were pushed to the back of his mind.

He'd lost her. _Her_. To Rodolphus.

There had been a time when it was his hand that kept the two of them separated and now they were married.

He had ruined everything. He had let everything slip right through his fingers.

He should have killed the child when he found out Narcissa was carrying it. He had wanted to. He knew this would happen. But, _she_ had gotten under his skin and he'd been in _her_ house when he had found out. Narcissa, his wife, _his_, had ran and told _her_ before she had told her husband. Lucius had wanted to hit her so badly. She always made him angry. Always. So damned angry. She was the root of all his problems.

He sat there sobbing for what felt like hours while only minutes ticked by. The thing got louder all the time, and finally stopped, maybe it hadn't, maybe the crying of it was just a dull thud in the back of his mind now. Whatever the reason, he could no longer hear its gasping breaths, but only his. Crumbling against the wall, Lucius drew back and punched it. "DAMN THEM! DAMN HER!"

It was with a gasp of pain that he realised his right arm was throbbing. Looking down, he noticed through teary eyes that his forearm was bright red and against it stood the infamous black serpent wound around and equally black skull. Chocking for air, Lucius struggled to get to his feet and dry his eyes. He stole away upstairs, as quick as his stumbling would allow him, fetched a cloak, a shirt, shoes, and his wand before slipping out the back door. He could still hear the thing crying as he closed it behind him.

Now outside on the snowy grounds, Lucius pointed his wand on himself and felt that familiar feeling of being sucked through a pipe.

A few seconds later he appeared outside of what looked to be a run down shack in the Scottish wilderness. Picking through the snow and rocks, he approached the shack while still trying to dry his eyes. Once he reached the rundown hut, he squared his shoulders and drew himself up before pushing open the door. He could dimly make out a small nearly extinguished fire inside and a rough straight-back chair.

"There's no need to put on pretense, Lucius. I know you've been crying." Came the raspy voice from the occupant of the chair. "Come, sit."


	2. The Temporary Fix

_i really had no idea what i was doing with voldemort in this one. i've never written for him before, and i can only hope i did a good job. i figured he would be inclined to be a bit nicer to lucius for reasons that i can't put into words. read and review_

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The door closed behind him, but he was not aware of what type of sound it made. He quickly made his way over to the rigid chair and took up a bended knee in front of it, bowing his head to the person who had spoken.

"Come come, Lucius, there's no need for all of this." The voice spoke again, but all the same, a pale hand was extended to Malfoy, which he took and pressed his lips to. "Rise my servant, and properly sit." With a wave of the same pale hand, another hard back chair was conjured out of thin air and placed opposite of the one Lucius was kneeling before.

"Yes, my Lord." He rose to his feet and crossed over to the chair. Sitting down rather hastily, he tried to keep his composure in check.

A harsh laugh echoed around the small room. "My child, as I said earlier, there is no need to pretend with me."

Lucius shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his chair.

"But if you wish to keep up the façade that you are indestructible, then by all means, go ahead, but be warned Lucius, it is only a façade." Malfoy made no move to speak, but noted with slight unease that the voice of his master sounded almost father-like and his words sounded strangely like a warning.

Lucius did not think himself weak. He could not think of himself as weak. "Yes Master." He said, after several strained minutes of silence.

"But," Said the raspy voice. "You do not wish to believe this, do you?" And slowly, the man rose from his chair. With another wave of his hand, the fire in the grate blazed to life, sending particles of dust swirling around the room. Illuminated by the light, one could quickly assert that this was indeed no man, or at least, not a normal man. He was deathly pale with a bald head and his once prominent Roman nose was beginning to fold inwards on itself. He looked rather like a man sized snake, but this didn't seem to bother Lucius in the least. He still sat rigidly in his chair, gaze now set on the growing fire.

"No. You don't." Voldemort answered the question for him. "You would rather keep on with your acting and put on pretense, pretending to be something you're not. Correct?" The Dark Lord gave him no time to answer and instead continued. "But, you're so horribly mistaken, my dear friend. You've already been conquered. You've already been used and then thrown out like an old crippled house elf."

Lucius knew what he was talking about without having to think twice, but still, his Master felt the need to press on, to pour salt in the already opened wound.

"By a _woman_." For the third time, Voldemort waved that deathly pallid hand of his, and this time as he did so, the fire blazed higher than ever before a blurry image formed in it. Lucius could make out two figures, running down what appeared to be a set of stairs. One appeared to be chasing the other. Minutes passed by and suddenly the images became quite clear.

"A night at the Lestrange Manor, my friend." The Dark Lord said with a flourish to the image in the fire. "While you are at home, having an emotional breakdown and realizing that you've lost everything you've ever had control of, she's doing this…"

Lucius watched as Rodolphus chased Bellatrix down the stairs, making movements to grab her, but always coming up short. There was a rather lopsided grin on his face as he sped up in a vain attempt to catch his wife. With a pain, Lucius realized that _they_ never had done anything like this. They had never chased one another around. She'd never lost complete control of her character with him before, but with Rodolphus, she seemed to be so much more, so free. With another wave of pain, he realized that he never truly knew the real Bellatrix. Whenever they had been…….she'd always been such a bitch and he had never seen the other side of her which Rodolphus always did.

"She has used you, time and time again, and yet, every time you look upon her, hunger flashes through your eyes." Those words jerked Lucius back to the present, back to reality. "All the time, you thought you had control of her, when it was really her who had the control over you." Lucius thought he saw a sneer form against those grey-green lips, but before he could make anything of it, his Master had turned his back on him and was now watching the activity within the fire.

"And yet, my troubled friend, you find yourself wondering what it would be like if you would have stayed with the eldest instead of going for the younger. You wonder what it would have been like had you not helped with the murdering of Regulus Black, had she not turned her back on you."

Lucius shivered quite suddenly. He had wondered these things, but he had never intended for anyone to ever know. There were thoughts hidden in the back of his mind that he was quite ashamed of, but this was the price one paid for being a servant of darkness. There were no secrets in this brotherhood.

"Yes, my Lord." He spoke for the first time in several minutes, his voice dry as if he had not used it in years. His attention was focused on the fire, almost hypnotized. Rodolphus had caught Bellatrix somewhere in the foyer of the house and had managed to pin her to the floor. What they were doing, Lucius didn't care to describe or watch. Averting his gaze to his cane, he swallowed hard.

"Look at me, Lucius." Malfoy felt his head involuntarily move as if an invisible hand were turning it and holding it in place. He shut his eyes, not wanting to watch Lestrange run his hands over what had been his—the scene was unfolding behind the Dark Lord who now stood with his back facing it. "I can change all of that. You will no longer have to wonder what would have happened had you not settled for the easy way out. Do you want that?"

Lucius hesitated. There had to be a trick somewhere. Why was his master volunteering to help him? Sure, he was one of the most trusted, in the inner circle, but it was not known of the Dark Lord to do random acts of kindness.

As if reading Lucius' thoughts, Voldemort let out another cold laugh. "My dear friend, again, you mistrust me. I only wish to help you, but the help will not last forever." Another cold laugh as his own hand replaced the invisible one beneath Lucius' chin.

Malfoy fought back a shiver. The hand was so cold, like ice. He heard someone give what could have been passed off as a moan from within the fire.

"I'll only ask you once more." The Dark Lord warned. "Do you want a chance to see what would have happened?"

Another moan. Not hesitating for a moment, Lucius shivered and muttered "Yes."

"Very well then."

The last thing Malfoy saw was that pale hand, waving in front of the fire again.


	3. Confrontation of the Hostile Kind

_mrrr. took me a while. chapter three. wewt. fight fight fight. DING DING!_

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The next day, Lucius Malfoy slept in and when he woke up at noon, he wished he could go back to sleep. He didn't want to have to deal with what was bound to come that day—that thing crying, his wife cooing over it; overall, the day would pass without anyone so much as giving a thought to him. He groaned and rolled over.

The first thing he noticed was that he was lying alone in bed. The sun was pouring in through the wall of windows to his left, casting a mid-day, faux cheery tone on the room. He gave a half hearted laugh and shrank back into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his eyes.

"Hmmm." The sheets weren't the same ones that had been on the bed last night. Instead of the creamy white sheets he had fallen asleep in, he was now laying on a dark blue, nearly black set of sheets, made of silk, not linen. He rolled his eyes slightly and stifled a yawn. "Looks as if the woman's learned how to use her wand." Malfoy muttered, for surely the sheets could have only been changed during his sleep by magic, without waking him. The house elves were too loud when they carried out their tasks; if they would have changed the sheets then surely he'd have awoken. Dear, that meant Narcissa was on a cleaning frenzy today if she could be bothered with changing the sheets. Perhaps he could sleep away the rest of the day in bed, after all, he had managed to sleep half of it.

A door to the right opened and in scurried a small little house elf with floppy ears and a pink toga. It wasn't one of his, though he recognized it immediately. "FREEM!" Lucius demanded. "What are you doing here?"

The elf paused in his scurrying, balancing a glass of orange juice and a copy of the _Daily Prophet _on his head. "Freem is your servant, Master." And he tried to bow, but couldn't go all the way down because of the load he was carrying.

"Where did you come from?" Freem belonged to the Blacks. How could he possibly be here?

The elf looked around for a brief second before answering, "The corridor, sir. Excuse Freem, but Mistress gets angry if her paper isn't on time." And he ran out of the room and through a door to the left.

"Narcissa, reading the paper?" He questioned. Since when had the blonde been the least interested in anything going on in the world, and why was she drinking orange juice, a drink "loaded with calories" as she constantly harped every time he drank it. Lucius sighed and rolled over, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it to his torso. He stretched slightly and at the foot of the bed, his feet came in contact with something cold. He brushed his foot against it again. It felt like….metal…in the bed? Sitting up, he looked down at the foot of the bed to only realise that the crafted wood which had been there last night had been replaced by wrought iron bed posts. Lucius arched an eyebrow and glanced back to the headboard, which was also constructed of twisted black iron.

Pushing himself from the strange bed, he stood beside it and yelled for his wife. "NARCISSA! WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON?!"

No answer.

"NARCISSA!"

Still, no answer.

"Busy with that brat." He mumbled and sat back down on the foreign bed, burying his face in his hands.

The same door that Freem had disappeared behind earlier now opened again. Looking up, he expected to see his wife, but instead got an eyeful of Bellatrix in nothing but a bathrobe.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded, quite tired of all the changes that had taken place this morning. "You can't just come barging into my house and not say anything. Did Narcissa let you in?"

She stopped in mid stride and looked at him as if he was delusional. After a long pause, she gave an answer. "I live here."

"No you don't!" Lucius snapped. She was seemingly ignoring him though and had begun looking through one of the wardrobes in the bedroom.

"I'm pretty sure I do." She muttered, not even bothering to spare him a glance before pushing herself from the open wardrobe and walking around the corner to a closet.

Lucius twisted around on the bed, looking in the direction she had gone. "Bellatrix" He said warningly.

"Yes?" Came the reply from in the closet.

He pushed himself from the bed and walked around it and into the closet where he found her looking in a chest of drawers. "Do you know where I put those underwear you gave me?"

"What….WHAT? No I don't know. I've not given you underwear in years. What the hell are you on about—DON'T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" He said, quite confused, so confused in fact that he had begun shaking his fore finger at her, which he had to restrain with the hand of his other arm. Lucius started looking around; this closet was a lot smaller than her remembered. And…where were all of Narcissa's clothes? This entire room was filled with nothing but reds, blacks, and green, three colors that the blonde Black never wore.

"Since when?" He snapped.

"Since when have you bought me underwear?" Bellatrix asked, pausing and looking puzzlingly up at him.

"SINCE WHEN HAVE YOU LIVED HERE?!" Lucius all but screamed. If Narcissa had moved that thing into his house over night, well, he couldn't be held responsible for what he did.

She hadn't even gone back to looking for her miss undergarment, watching Lucius with slight apprehension, she began counting on her fingers. "Six years."

"Six…six….si..LIAR!" And that time, he did scream. How dare she lie to him! He was tired of her stupid little games. Lucius Malfoy wasn't her fool.

"Are you o-"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE THIS INSTANT YOU LYING WHORE!" Lucius thrust his index finger in the direction of the door. "GET OUT!"

Bellatrix stood up slowly and calmly. With eyes like ice she stared him down. "What is wrong with you?" Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. "No wait, on second thought: Fine." And she pushed past him into the outer room before wheeling around on him. "But I'm not leaving because this is _your_ house. I'm leaving because I just realised I married the same bastard I hated in school and I don't want to spend another second with you." She turned on her heal and stormed out of the room and down the stairs, taking two at a time.

"Crazy bitch." He muttered after she had left the room. It wasn't until he had run a hand through his hair and then sat down inside the closet that her words hit him—head on. "What the hell?" Lucius jumped from the floor like a lighted fuse, ran out of the room, and once he saw the front door below him shut, sprinted down the stairs. She wasn't crazy. Dear God. He was married to Bellatrix Black, well, most likely Bellatrix Malfoy now, or was he Lucius Black? Would she have taken his last name? Whatever, details didn't matter. Everything suddenly made sense to him and Lucius could only hope he wasn't about to make a complete moron of himself.

Reaching the front door, he ripped it open and looked around wildly. He spotted Bellatrix, stomping down the long driveway, wand out, and still in a bathrobe.

"BELLATRIX!"

He mounted the gravel and ran as fast as he could, rocks digging into his feet, which were most likely getting cut.

"BELLATRIX!" Why wasn't she looking back? Oh Merlin he had fucked up, and he had only been married to her for a few minutes, well six years according to her, but he had only known for a few minutes.

Sprinting the remaining distance to her, Lucius bit his lips for fear of crying out as the rough gravel dug into his feet. "STOP!" He came up behind her, barely stopping himself before he slammed into her. "Stop." Lucius threw his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to hold her back.

She whirled around him and fought to push him arms from her. It became apparent that he wasn't letting her go though, so Bellatrix settled for a scathing reply and a scowl. "_What?_"

"Stop." He repeated.

"Yeah, I got that part."

If he was going to get anywhere with this, he couldn't get angry with her. "Don't leave. I…I….I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what? Snap at me for no apparent reason? Act like a complete lunatic? Tell me to get out?" She screamed. "Didn't mean to WHAT?"

"I didn't know." Lucius muttered. "I didn't know, Bellatrix." He hung his head, hoping he looked the part of an injured puppy, a very cute injured puppy.

"What didn't you know?" He felt her push his hands from him and untangle herself from his grasp.

Lucius didn't answer. He had messed up. He had had her. He had gotten what he had asked for last night, and within five minutes, he had fucked it up so bad that there was no hope of getting her back. It wasn't meant to be. It was just wishful thinking. Him….her….they couldn't work.

"What didn't you know?"

He didn't even hear her. Lucius Malfoy had screwed things up began all recognition. He always ruined everything. Count on him to screw something into the ground. Good Job Lucius.

He looked up and saw her shake her head and turn her back on him. She was walking away, for the hundredth time probably. He knew what her backed looked like more than her knew what her face looked like. She always walked away from him. Always.

"Bella." He softly spoke the name he was never allowed to call her. "Don't leave."

He looked back down at the ground, his expression that of a kicked down before he looked back up again. He made eye contact and said something he knew he had never before said in his life.

"I'm sorry."


End file.
